


Five times Andrés confessed his feelings and one time he didn't

by klembek



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1, Betaed, Fluff, Multi, Sounds Like Angst, at least not for berlermo fans, it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24438448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klembek/pseuds/klembek
Summary: Just Andrés being Andrés, falling in love and confessing it ... most of the times.Inspired by "Never Seen Anything 'Quite Like You" by The Script.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Original Female Character(s), Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Tatiana
Comments: 31
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

Andrés met Rebeca when he was still in school. She was quiet and shy. Normally he wouldn’t pay any attention to her. She was just another geek who would get a heart attack just from being around other people. Till the day he decided to steal from the library.

His target was a book about the life and art of Michelangelo - _The Quarryman_. It was rare and no one was allowed to take it home, even though Andrés was the only one who showed it any interest. It was damaged, small and old. It didn’t stand a chance next to big, colorful encyclopedias. So Andrés decided to rescue it.  
Stealing a book wasn’t that hard, really the librarian never moved from her desk anyway. Even the location of the bookcase was convenient – too far from the entrance for other people to pay attention to him, but not too far for a couple to make out there.

When Andrés entered the library he wasn’t even nervous. He walked past a few bookcases, stopping once or twice to open a random book and put it back after reading the first two sentences. He blended into the crowd.

Finally he reached the right bookcase with a smug smile on his face. It was like taking a lollipop away from a baby. (Not that he had ever done that, he wasn’t a monster.) Then he noticed that _The Quarryman_ was gone. He searched every shelf, but it wasn’t there. Somebody must have taken it and was reading it by the table.  
He walked to the area with desks. His dark eyes scanned the place carefully, but the book was nowhere to be found. He took a historical atlas from the shelf and sat in a strategic spot. He opened his book and pretended to read. The person that rained on his parade was probably looking for more books, but he’d show up eventually.  
And he did. Only it wasn’t a he.

The girl sat the furthest from other people as she could and opened her notebook. On top of the pile of books she was barely able to bring laid _The Quarryman_.  
Andrés stood up and walked to the bookcase closest to her. He was watching, waiting. Finally the book thief stood up and disappeared between the shelves. Andrés didn’t waste time. He approached the table and, without slowing down, he took _The Quarryman_ from it with one smooth move.

‘Hey!’

He turned around and looked at the girl innocently, though he didn’t even try to hide his prize. This will be fun.

‘That’s my book,’ the girl said. Her voice was tentative. Andrés could tell that she wasn’t used to talking to strangers and standing up for herself. But she also didn’t seem to be willing to let him get away with his actions.

‘You weren’t reading it, so I thought that I can take it,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders. The girl crossed her arms (probably to hide that her hands were shaking).  
‘I took it from the shelf, it’s obvious I was going to read it.’ For a moment it looked as if she was afraid that she had insulted him. It made Andrés want to laugh. Instead he smiled apologetically.

‘You’re right. I was being rude,’ he approached her and held out the book. ‘I’ll wait till you finish.’

For a moment she was moving her lips, but no sound escaped them. She stared at him in disbelief, nervous under his intense, dark gaze.

‘No, there’s no need for that,’ she shook her head fiercely. ‘I’ll read it some other time.’

‘I insist’, he smiled charmingly. She looked at him a bit longer before taking the book out of his hand. Their fingers brushed for a moment and she blushed.

‘Rebeca.’ She extended her trembling hand in his direction.

‘Andrés.’ He shook it gently.

Rebeca turned out to be smarter than he had thought. She was familiar with most of his favourite painters and sculptors, though her real passion was literature. Once she stopped stuttering, she was a great conversation partner.

The next day Andrés found her in a corridor and walked her home after lessons. At the weekend they went to the museum. A week later Rebeca found the copy of _The Quarryman_ which she knew should be in the library on her porch. The inscription inside it said _“Para mi amor”_.


	2. Chapter 2

Andrés loved business trips. He was always making sure that they lasted long enough to be able to enjoy himself for a day or two after getting the job done. It was his last night in Switzerland and it was getting better and better. Everything because of the beautiful, but unhappy woman in the middle of her hen party.

‘My parents want me to marry him.’

‘But you don’t love him, do you?’ he asked … what was her name? Vanessa? Something like that.

She froze for a moment and then replied quietly, ‘No. But they insist. They say that he’ll make me happy. He has a good job and shows me respect, but ...’

‘He’s not the one?’

She nodded, grateful that he understood her feelings.

‘I had a wife once. She also wasn’t the one,’ his voice sounded way more sadly than he truly felt. To be honest, he didn’t miss Rebeca. At the end of their marriage he was choked by her presence, her voice was driving him mad, his skin itched when she touched him. It’s good that he divorced her.

‘But let’s not talk about it,’ he pointed at the group of women sitting in the corner, looking at him suspiciously. ‘If your fiancee is at least half as boring as your friends, then it’ll be a while before you have fun again.’

Vanessa (?) smiled and changed the subject.

She was funny and smart. Andrés was pleased to notice that every time she laughed, she laid her hand on his arm, getting closer and closer to him. Soon all he could smell was the scent of her perfume. And just when he was about to kiss her, her friends decided to interrupt them.

‘We should go,’ said one of the women, avoiding Andrés’ eyes at all cost.

‘I’ll walk you,’ he offered with a smile.

On the street he called a taxi for them. When he-was-almost-sure-Vanessa’s friends got in, he opened the passenger door for her.

‘It was nice to meet you,’ she said, vein of disappointment clear in her voice.

‘Pleasure was all mine,’ he kissed her hand. ‘Good luck tomorrow.’

She hesitated for a moment, but then got into the car and closed the door. Andrés watched as the taxi disappeared around the corner. Close enough.

But when he was lying in bed a few hours later, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He wondered how it would be if she was lying next to him. He thought about her slim legs, delicate hands and long hair. The fact that this time tomorrow she will belong to another man made his blood boil.

The next morning he knew what he had to do. One call to the taxi dispatch was enough to find out where probably-Vanessa was living.

‘May I help you?’ asked the middle-aged woman who opened the door. The house had only one floor, but was well-maintained.

‘I want to speak with the bride’ he answered and at the same time he heard footsteps.

‘Andrés?’ He- believed-Vanessa showed up in the corridor. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I want to speak with you. In private.’

She nodded and invited him inside. He followed her till they reached her bedroom. The wedding dress hung on the door of the closet.

‘I thought you were going back to Spain today,’ she said, clearly uncomfortable with him being here.

‘I am,’ he replied. ‘And I want you to come with me.’

‘What?’ she almost shouted. Andrés shushed her, putting a finger on his lips.

‘I want you to come with me’ he repeated when she calmed down. ‘I’m sure there’s another ticket left.’

She shook her head.

‘You’re insane! I’m getting married today...’

‘To a man whom you don’t love. Name one thing he’s better at than me. Does he love you the way I do?’

She froze.

‘You … love me?’

Andrés walked to her slowly. He looked at her for a moment and when she didn’t step back, he kissed her. Their lips barely touched, but maybe-Vanessa was out of breath.

‘So?’

‘Yes’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes’

They escaped through the window. At the airport it turned out that her name was Charlotte.


	3. Chapter 3

Andrés had never understood the idea of getting drunk because of problems. Yes, he was drinking pretty often, but he had always done that because he loved the taste of a good wine on his tongue, not because that was his coping mechanism. But today he was willing to give it a shot.

The liquor standing in front of him was disgusting, but the bartender assured him that it’s the best thing they had. Andrés could only blame himself. He should have predicted that a simple beach bar in the Caribbean wouldn’t have anything he was used to. On the other hand, he felt like wine was too close to home to drink it while trying to forget his own name.

‘Is she at least pretty?’ he heard a female voice on his right. The young blonde with a pink flower in her hair was smiling down at him, ‘The one you’re drinking because of.’

For a moment Andrés wanted her to walk away, but he replied eventually, ‘You can say so.’

‘Does she not love you?’

‘Are you always this nosy?’

‘Only when I see a lonely man.’

And she was right. He was lonely and he hated it. He loved being around people who adored him. And she was the one had started the conversation. Suddenly, he felt better. He didn’t need a drink, he needed her.

Her name was Ana. She came here with a friend who abandoned her for a guy she met on the plane the moment they landed. But she didn’t let that ruin her mood. Andrés patiently listened to her talking, her enthusiasm slowly infecting him. By the end of the day he kissed her.

They spent two weeks together and, honestly, Andrés couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy. It was crystal clear that he loved her. Truly, madly and deeply.

‘Marry me,’ he said one day when they were lying in bed. Ana laughed.  
‘I’m serious.’

She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him surprised. He sat up and took her hands in his.

‘I know we haven’t known each other long, but I know about love. I’ve been married twice,’ he squeezed her hand. ‘And what I feel towards you is love and I know that you feel it too. So why wait?’

They married the day before the flight on a beach. People around them cheered and clapped their hands, congratulating them and wishing good luck. After all, it was true love. Everybody supports true love.


	4. Chapter 4

Charity parties usually had nothing to do with charity. People participated in them to get friends in court and gossip about the host. Generally. Because Andrés didn’t sneak into Raul Vaca’s party to laugh at him. He wanted to see the inside of his house. And he was failing terribly. Security guards were making sure nobody enterd upstairs. So Andrés needed help to get up there.

All businessmen’s wives were the same. Bored. Bored with their husbands and steady life. That’s why they either were spending their money on drugs or were entertaining themselves with various lovers. One look at Lydia Vaca was enough to tell him that she opted for the latter.

Andrés walked up to her and after a few minutes she was leading him upstairs ‘to show him a painting in the corridor’. While being literally tugged in the direction of her bedroom, Andrés looked around, trying to remember every little detail.

‘What’s that?’ he stopped, pointing at the room they were just passing. Lydia looked at it, clearly irritated.

‘My husband’s study. Now come on.’ She tried to make him move, but he pulled her close and held her firmly.

‘How about we do it there?’ he asked, kissing her neck. He felt the shiver run down her spine. ‘Think about it. That’s the place he sits in, instead of being with you. Don’t you want to get back at him?’

She hesitated for a minute and then opened the door.

He took her on the desk, right in the middle of the room. Before they finished he knew where the safe was.

The break-in was easy. They didn’t have any problems with entering and escaping with diamonds in their pockets. But Andrés wasn’t satisfied. While leaving the mansion he felt like he left something precious there, the biggest diamond in the collection.

A few days later he showed up in the Vaca’s mansion again. One more time as a thief. Though, is it thievery if all you do is save a poor woman from her terrible marriage? If you think about it, Andrés was doing Raul a favour, taking the burden of pleasing the woman off his shoulders.

‘You deserve somebody interesting, somebody who loves you,’ he said when he saw Lydia, not minding that her husband was right next to her. ‘And I’m that man.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, so expect chapter 5 any minute.


	5. Chapter 5

He needed somebody new after one of his co-workers got imprisoned. Well, it happens. As Freddie Mercury sang “The show must go on”. So he found her: Tatiana.

From the beginning it was crystal clear that she was into him. She played with her hair when he was around, biting her lip seductively, touching him every time she had a chance. And though Andrés didn’t approve of Sergio’s ‘no personal relationships’ rule, he never showed Tatiana more than kindness and respect. Which made her try even harder.

A few weeks before the heist, she came to him in her white coat. Only in the coat, nothing underneath. He teased her a bit, keeping her unsure till she was ready to give him anything he wanted.

Tatiana wasn’t like his previous wives. She knew what he did for living and she accepted that. She played the piano and loved art. He was more than happy to spent every night with her.

During the heist he spotted the ring with the biggest diamond and without a second thought offered it to Tatiana.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Marry me.’

Tatiana laughed and melted into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I know it's super short. But I'm not lazy, it's all about symbolism!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend to read while listening to [ this song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81lf71aQVPM).

It was different with Martín. But on the other hand, everything was different with Martín.

They met when Andrés was planning a heist – an assault on the Leo Spik auction house in Berlin and at first he couldn’t stand the younger man. He hated his cocky smile, his completely unstylish leather jacket and unrefined language. Just the sound of his voice made Andrés want to scream.

Martín loved to tease him, he was a total flirt and had never heard of personal space. He was always commenting on the weak points of the plan in front of the whole group. And even though Andrés tried many times to put him in his place, it had never worked. That was when Andrés realised that Martín simply wasn’t afraid of him, which was surprising. So far the only person who didn’t feel that way was Sergio. And that’s what drew him to Martín.

He started talking with him. Actually talking, not just telling him to get back to work. The man preferred mathematics to art and his taste in music was at least tolerable, but Andrés found that he actually enjoyed their conversations. He would like to get to know Martín more and, as it turned out, this feeling was mutual.

‘You know, I’ve never really thought about what I’ll do with my money,’ Martín said after they split the prize, looking at Andrés sheepishly. ‘Got any ideas?’

They left Germany together. Just like they did everything together from then on.  
They traveled around the world, living the dream. Andrés dragged Martín to museums and art galleries, never needing a guide, telling his loyal companion the story of every single exhibit himself. Even though he wasn’t as enthusiastic as him, Berrote listened carefully, asking questions and looking at Andrés with amazement. And then for revenge he would take Andrés to pseudo-restaurants that served fast food or places where some “famous” movie had been shot. He obviously complained all the time, but he actually liked it. Not the food or parks and buildings crowded with loud tourists, but the excitement in Martín’s eyes whenever he was showing him something he was passionate about, hoping for his approval.

But it wasn’t just happy moments and soft conversations. There were times when they argued. And when that happened, they ARGUED. Martín’s yelling and swearing against Andrés’ cold responses and mocking, felt like a hurricane, like fire meeting ice, like the Apocalypse itself. They were dramatic, throwing their hands, packing their things and telling the other to get out. But after the storm there was always peace and they always came back to each other.  
That was also the time when Martín met Sergio. Andrés watched in amusement as the Argentinian teased his little brother and made inappropriate offers to him. Sergio went to bed unusually early that day.

‘You’re different around him’ Sergio said the next morning, when it was just the two of them in the kitchen.

‘What do you mean?’ Andrés asked, but that was the moment they heard Martín’s footsteps and he wasn’t paying attention to Sergio anymore.

They had done a few more heists together before they first thought about getting a house. As much as Andrés loved traveling, he wanted to have a place he could call home. So when he found a dilapidated monastery during their stay in Italy, he knew what to spend his money on.

‘We’re moving’ he told Martín, so used to his presence, that he didn’t even consider them having separate flats.

Living with Berrote was interesting. Andrés got to know him more with every single thing he bought and brought home. Up until then they had only spent money on travel. But now he was learning to live with tons of science – fiction books, action movies and rock CDs and other things he himself would never buy.

One day Martín came home with a guitar in his hand. Andrés knew that he could play, but had never actually heard him doing that.

Martín sat down in the chapel they used as a living room and played cheesy, English songs about love, mispronouncing the lyrics, but getting every chord right. To Andrés’ surprise, he found that he was smiling fondly. He didn’t like the songs, but the fact that Martín sang them made him hate them a little bit less.

Andrés was well aware of Martín’s sexuality and had no problem with that. He was an artist after all, twice divorced. He knew about the uncontrollable power that love and desire were. But when his friend started to bring men to their home he wasn’t happy at all. It wasn’t because the monastery was supposed to be a sacred place only the two of them could be in. Andrés sometimes also came back with a girl by his side and Martín had never complained. But there was this particular man who kept coming back and Andrés truly hated him.

The way he treated Martín, like he was some naive teenage girl, made Andrés want to stab him. Martín was a beautiful, smart and interesting man and he deserved to be respected. So he made sure to show that neanderthal that he’s not welcome in their house. He only couldn’t understand why every time he was rude, Martín got angry with him.

‘I just think that he’s not the right person for you,’ Andrés said when Martín brought it up, trying to make his voice as neutral as possible.  
‘Why do you care so much?’

Andrés went silent. He really didn’t know. And with the man looking at him so angrily and yet so … hopefully, coming up with the answer was unexpectedly difficult.

He cleared his throat and said, ‘Because you’re my best friend, Martín.’  
After that Martín stopped bringing anyone home.

The moment Andrés realised he was in love with Martín wasn’t ... well, let’s just say, his happiest day.

He was working all day, planning the Champs-Élysées heist. Martín tried to persuade him to go to sleep and when he didn’t listen, he played one of their favourite records and started dancing and singing. At first Andrés didn’t react, but he couldn’t, just couldn’t ignore the amount of noise Martín was making and finally looked at him. But instead of telling him to leave him alone he just stared in amusement. Seeing his reaction only encouraged Berrote and soon Andrés couldn’t restrain the laughter bubbling in his chest.

‘That’s ridiculous. I -’

And at this moment Andrés froze, terrified of what he had almost said. I love you. He wanted to say ‘I love you’. Why? Why would he say that?

He stood up and without a word he went to his bedroom. He packed his things and left the monastery, not telling Martín anything. The next day he was sitting in a bar on some island the name of which he couldn’t even remember now.

How could he have let his guard down so much? He had almost said something he surely didn’t want to say and surely didn’t mean. Martín was his best friend, the person he had spent the past few years with, he obviously wasn’t indifferent to him. But love was a strong word. Andrés knew about love and what he felt towards Martín wasn’t it. But when he began to wonder WHAT it exactly was, he couldn’t find the answer.

And that was the moment he met Ana, who cleared his blues away. Her presence helped him find the answer for all the questions. He wasn’t in love with Martín, he was just lonely. Since he divorced Charlotte all those years ago he hadn’t even had a girlfriend. Sure, he was having sex, but that was it. And that was the problem, because Andrés loved being in love. And apparently he was so desperate to feel it again that he was ready to try to get it from Martín, who was the closest to him. Fortunately, he was able to control himself and didn’t say anything stupid. And now that he had Ana everything would be fine.

Only it wasn’t.

Ana kept him entertained for almost half a year, but even then he still wanted to do or say stupid things whenever Martín was around. He couldn’t stop himself from touching him, from smiling whenever he was smiling, from hurting basically everyone who made him upset. The fact that Berrote wasn’t seeing anyone and spent almost all his time in the monastery also didn’t help. But him being gone was even worse. Andrés felt something dark inside him rise whenever Martín left him, as if he was the pin and Andrés was a grenade. Every time Martín returned home he wanted to tell him off for leaving him like that. What was he even thinking? He was supposed to be here, with him, always ready to give him the attention he desired.

He divorced Ana and a few months later he married Lydia. And then he divorced her and married Tatiana. Martín had been to every single one of the weddings, being his usual self, drinking, singing and dancing. He was also there during the divorces, doing everything to cheer him up. He didn’t know that Andrés didn’t need that. He was more than alright leaving these women, who either bored or irritated him.

A few weeks after his divorce from Tatiana Sergio came with a visit. His brother was more wooden than usual, but Andrés didn’t ask. He knew that sooner or later he would find out what was bothering him. In the meantime he showed him the plan Martín and he had come up with. Melting gold. In the Bank of Spain. They were geniuses. But Sergio didn’t share their enthusiasm.

Finally, when Martín very considerately said that he would let them have some time alone and went to his room, Sergio told him about his own plan. And Andrés had to say that he was impressed. He still preferred to melt gold, though.  
‘I want you to be in charge,’ his brother said at the end.

‘I have to talk to Martín first,’ he said, sipping his wine. ‘Though I’m sure he won’t be happy with the idea of doing your heist first.’

‘I want you. Just you. Without Martín.’

The world stopped for a second, when Andrés sent his brother one of the most deadly stares he could manage. Sergio took off his glasses and started to clean them nervously as he explained why he didn’t want Martín in the Mint. That he was obsessed with power, unstable and generally speaking, dangerous. Andrés wanted to do something to him for saying all these terrible things about his best friend.

‘ … and you’re not yourself when you’re around him,’ Sergio finished.

Andrés’ voice was now quiet and cautionary, ‘I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.’

Sergio looked at him for a moment and then he stood up, not willing to argue about that.

‘Just think about it.’

Andrés snorted and refused to look at Sergio as he walked out the room. What was he thinking? That he could command him? That his opinion mattered? He was naive and idealistic like a high schooler if he thought that he could get through a heist like that without shooting anyone. And he dared to say that Martín wasn’t good enough for that plan. That he made Andrés incompetent.  
‘Trouble in paradise?’ Andrés felt the tension leave his shoulders at the sound of Martín’s voice. The Argentinian walked to the table and poured himself some wine.

‘You know, I sometimes regret not having siblings. But then I look at you and Sergio and I’m grateful for that.’

Andrés watched him from his chair.

After so many years of being together he had never felt bored around him. He loved working with him, drinking with him, singing and dancing with him. He loved telling him about art and listening to him talking about science. He was so used to their daily routine, finding Martín’s shirts in his closet, watching movies together and drinking his tea that the time before now seemed unreal to him.

‘Andrés? Everything alright?’

He couldn’t imagine his life without him now. No, on second thought he could. And it was worthless, stripped of beauty and light. They were two sides of the same coin. Andrés-and-Martín. Leaving him behind would be a self-harm. Like trying to leave behind his lungs, like cutting off his legs and arms.  
He stood up and walked to his engineer without saying a word.

‘Andrés?’

Martín was smart. He knew that real chaos made no noise. But not this time. Andrés was quiet and so were his thoughts. It always happened when he was around Martín.

He kissed him.  
And although he almost said that a few years ago, he didn’t say ‘I love you’. Not after the kiss, not after they had sex, not in the Mint, not after they barely escaped, not when they got married on their private island. Words just weren’t enough, for this feeling that was more than love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! The final chapter.  
> The scene in which Andres doesn't like Martin's lover was inspierd by a headcanon made by [this awesome person ](https://the--sound--of--rain.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone say thank you to amazing givebackmylifecas for being my beta.
> 
> Link to [ her AO3 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas) (check out her fanfics, she's a great writer):  
> Link to [ her tumblr ](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Link to [ my tumblr ](https://oreo-cookies-fan.tumblr.com/) (message me, I love talking to fandom people)


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